To a woman of a certain age
Who still refuses to turn the page.
Well, in this photo you look fine,
But why resist the flow of time?
We all know that at the end of the day
Gravity will have its way!
You’re in the stream,
So, lie back and take it easy.
In the morning you were the silver birch
So young and tall and slim upon the banks,
With leaves, like a veil, lifted by the mischievous wind.
You enjoyed your billowing July,
With full green leaves of ash and oak
Like summer dresses in the afternoon sun.
Now enjoy the fall of those old brown leaves
As they flutter from you to the muddy earth,
And career around the fields,
When November gets busy with his broom
And sweeps them into corners.
Then enjoy the calm of the late evening,
The quiet ending of the day,
When wrinkled twigs in winter are clear against the sky,
And a pale sun loiters over the snow.
For twigs too have their beauty
If you’ll only let it show.